


Team Fortress of Teufort

by atoafriend



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 18,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9433907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atoafriend/pseuds/atoafriend
Summary: A series of shorts and scenes of the college life of Team Fortress over the course of their undergraduate studies at the prestigious (and fictional) University of Teufort in New Mexico.Note: The chapters will be published in a nonlinear order as I write them.  If you want to jump straight to the action, I recommend you begin at Chapter 3 or 4.  A full list of chapters and involved characters are listed at the beginning of Chapter 1.





	1. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago

**Author's Note:**

> List of scenes and characters:  
> 1\. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago (Sniper, Medic)  
> 2\. Austrailia, 2 years ago (Sniper)  
> 3\. Baseball practice, present day, late August (Scout, Medic)  
> 4\. The Fortress, present day, late August: the party (Scout, ensemble)  
> 5\. The party (cont.) (ensemble)  
> 6\. The party, deleted scene (Scout, Pyro, Demo, Soldier, Medic)  
> 7\. Intermission: "Mikhail" (Medic, Heavy)  
> 8\. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago, move-in week (Sniper, Medic)  
> 9\. The Fortress, present day, Halloween (ensemble)  
> 10\. Group chat log, present day, late September (ensemble)  
> 11\. Frat party, present day, late October (Scout, Spy)  
> 12\. Intermission: "Phone Call" (Spy, Sniper, Medic)  
> 13\. Halloween, bonus scene (Scout, Sniper, Spy)  
> 14\. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago, mid-October (Sniper, Spy, Medic)  
> 15\. _Illustration: Support Squad_ (Medic, Sniper, Spy)  
>  16\. 2 years ago, mid-October (cont.) (Spy, Sniper)  
> 17\. The Fortress, present day, mid-October: Bread (Scout, Medic, Engineer, Soldier, Spy, Sniper, ensemble)  
> 18\. Group chat log, present day, early September (Medic, Heavy, Engineer, Sniper, Soldier, Spy)  
> 19\. 2 years ago, mid-October (cont., 2) (Spy, Medic, Sniper)  
> 20\. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago, early January (Spy, Medic, Sniper)  
> 21\. _Illustration: Jeremy, Support Squad (redraw)_ (Scout, Medic, Sniper, Spy)

Mundy adjusted the weight of the box he carried as he pressed the elevator button, and then selected the button for the top floor.  Many students would complain about living all the way up there, but Mundy liked it.  Being on the top floor meant less noisy neighbors to bother you.  It also put him far away from the commotion of the first floor commons.  The top floor was generally more quiet, and Mundy preferred it that way.

Really, the Redmond dorm was not all that bad.  People had said it was where all the freshman who were not in any special programs got stuffed into.  It was not as far from the main campus as the Blutarch dorm, but it was all the way on the eastern-most edge of the campus and quite a walk to the main buildings where classes were.  Mundy, however, did not mind needing to wake up a bit earlier to trek a few extra blocks to his classes.  His dorm was also right next to the big nature reserve, perfect for long walks and photo trips.  As far as freshmen dorms went, Redmond was not that bad.

But Mundy did have one big problem: his room was a triple, which meant he would be stuck living with two complete strangers for a year.  Since he was an international student he was allowed to move in early, so this first week of buying basic essentials for his room was his last few days of precious solitude before the semester began.  He picked the bed in the far corner by the windows and lofted it so he could be as far away from the other beds as possible.  He then took the time to buy a small curtain and pinned it to the ceiling so that his entire corner of the room could be closed off.  He did not care that other kids might find it weird: he needed his privacy, especially if he was going to actually be living with actual people that were not his parents.

Upon reaching his room, Mundy found the door was already open.  He looked inside and nearly dropped the box he was carrying.

The room could only be described as utter chaos.  The floor was littered with boxes at various states of being unpacked.  One of the beds had been assembled and was shoved into the other corner near the window and was covered in a mess of sheets, clothes, and books.  Above the bed hung several posters of what looked like human anatomy diagrams.  Next to them hung a small glass display case filled with what Mundy recognized as surgery tools.  Mundy had taken the liberty of pinning some of his photographs near his bed, but at least those depicted animals and nature scenes.  These posters and the display case looked like something out of a bad horror film.

His attention went to the tall boy standing in the middle of the room, wearing a plan collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up.  He was rummaging haphazardly through the boxes, muttering to himself in a language Mundy did not understand.

The boy stood up and saw Mundy standing dumbstruck at the door.  "Oh, hello!" the boy greeted with a wide grin on his face.  "You must be one of my roommates!  I see you've already moved in."  He spoke with a sharp accent.  

"Uh, yeah," Mundy responded blankly.

"I apologize for the mess, I tried to get early move-in, too, but there were some problems with the paperwork and now I'm stuck with only three days to sort out all this."  He gestured at the sea of boxes in the room.  "I'm Hans, by the way."

"Michael Mundy.  Just Mundy is fine."  Mundy looked in the nearest opened box.  It was filled with what Mundy could only call junk, loose parts of old scientific equipment and machinery.

"Hm, your accent...you must also be an international student.  Where are you from, if I may ask?"

"Australia."  Mundy did not bother with the town, it was unlikely anyone who did not live there had ever heard of it.

"Australia, how interesting.  I'm from Germany, in case you couldn't guess from my accent.  Rottenburg, to be exact," Hans said, smiling.  "And what are you studying?"

"Photography," Mundy answered.  All of this talking and questioning with this strange kid was making him uncomfortable, especially with those posters looming over him.  But he decided that since he was going to be spending the next few months living with this guy, he might as well try to know him a little.  "What about you?"

"Pre-med," Hans replied.  "I come from a family of doctors, so I guess you could say it's in my blood."

"Oh."  That would explain the freaky posters and surgical tools, Mundy thought to himself.  He carefully made his way to his corner of the room and set his box down.

Hans returned to rummaging through his boxes.  "Where is it, where is it…" he muttered, before letting out a sigh of relief.  "Oh, thank god!  It's not broken!"

"What's not broken?" Mundy asked.

"This!"

Mundy looked up and and paled when he saw Hans holding a human skull.  What the hell kind of guy was this kid?!  "Is that…?  Is that real?" he asked slowly.

" _Na ja_ , of course it's real!" Hans answered with a cheerful grin on his face that matched the skull.  "Well, now that I think about it, why did I even worry that it was going to break?  Human skulls are surprisingly durable, that brain needs to be kept somewhere safe..."

Hans seemed to be talking more to himself now, and Mundy decided he needed to leave the room immediately.  This guy was getting too much to handle.  "I have to go," he said quickly, heading for the door.  "More boxes."

"Ok, take care!" Hans replied as Mundy practically bolted out the door.

As soon as he walked out of the dorm, Mundy took a deep breath.  To put it lightly, his new roommate was insane.  He could deal with normal people, but this guy...Mundy had spent all this time believing that _he_ was going to be the weird one.  It never occurred to him that there would be people at this school weirder than him.  Hans's abnormally cheerful demeanor juxtaposed with those posters was, quite frankly, creepy.  If he was honest with himself, Mundy was not sure if he would be able to handle living with this guy for a year.  Part of him wondered if he had just talked to a budding psychopath.

His hand gripping the camera bag at his waist; he never went anywhere without his camera.  He looked over at the entrance to the nature reserve just down the street.  Now was as good a time as any to go explore it.  Take some pictures.  Take his mind off the matter for a bit.

He spent the majority of the afternoon out in the reserve, taking pictures of the scenery and watching the birds.  They were different than the ones back home.  He did his best to get as close to them as he could to take photos so he could identify them later.

By the time he began making his way back to his room, Mundy decided to give living with his new roommate a chance.  While he had a questionable taste in decor, Hans certainly did not seem to be the sinister type.  Mundy knew it was the quiet ones that were the dangerous ones, and Hans seemed far to cheerful to fall into that category.

When he reached the room, all the boxes were gone and the entire mess from earlier had been neatly sorted away (the posters still hung on the wall, but Mundy could just ignore them).  A cool evening breeze blew through the open window.  Hans was sitting at his desk leaning over something, talking quietly to himself in German.  He looked up as Mundy entered the room.

"Oh, hello again," Hans greeted.  "You were gone for quite a while."

"Took a walk," Mundy replied.  He looked over at the window and saw some kind of contraption sitting outside of it.  "What's that?"

"Hm?  Oh, that."  Hans looked over to the contraption.  "It's a bird feeder!  I've always loved birds, so I figured I could start making some new friends.  I hope you're alright with that."

Mundy shrugged.  "I don't mind."  He liked birds.  The feeder would bring them close to him, so they could be something to photograph whenever he was bored.

He looked down at Hans's desk and yelped when he saw a white pigeon lying on a blood-stained sheet.  Panic raced through him and for a moment he was sure his worst fear had been confirmed, that he was indeed living with a psychopath.  But then he saw the bird's head move and he relaxed a bit.  The bird was not dead.  Yet.

"I found this poor thing lying just outside the window," Hans explained calmly.  "He must have crashed into it by accident, and now he's unable to fly."

Mundy looked closer and saw that one of its wings was badly mangled.  He then saw the array of medical supplies laid out next to the sheet.  "Are you...giving it surgery?" he asked incredulously.

"Well I have to try and help him.  What kind of medical student would I be if I just left him there to die?"  Hans turned back and continued working on what seemed to be some kind of splint for the broken wing.  "There, all finished!"  Mundy watched as Hans cradled the bird and gently set it on the window next to the feeder.  "It will take a few days to fully heal, but I expect Archimedes to make a full recovery."

Mundy smiled inwardly.  The crazy German student had given the stupid bird a name.  It would never had occurred to him that Hans would share his love of birds.  Maybe living with this guy would not be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was discussing a college AU with a friend and one thing led to another and here we are. Oops.
> 
> Thinking up majors for some of the characters was very easy (Medic would be premed, duh), but a bit more challenging for others. There isn't exactly a course of study that matches "sniper," but wildlife photography seemed to be the suitable option. It's solitary, outdoors, and just a little dangerous. Seems like something Sniper would like.


	2. Austrailia, 2 years ago

Mundy loved photography, and he loved nature.  He could sit out in the wilderness for hours on end with only a few bottles of water, some snacks, and his camera.  It was a love that few people understood, and even fewer appreciated.  His parents hoped he would be more...well, _normal_ was the word that came to Mundy's mind.  They wanted him to do something more athletic, like football or rugby.  Mundy had tried out for the teams and did okay, but he never really enjoyed them and quit halfway through each season.  The only other activity he found remotely interesting outside of art class was jazz band, and he stuck with that mostly because he knew his parents wanted him to engage in something livelier than sitting outside covered in leaves staring at trees all day.

Contrary to the stereotype of his appearance, Mundy was perfectly capable of tackling a boy twice his size -- a fact that the kids who teased and bullied him learned the hard way when one kid tried to snatch his camera.  He remembered sitting in the office, waiting stoically with his camera held tightly in his grip for his father to finish talking to the principal.  Later that day, his father took him out for ice cream.  "I don't know how you plan on making a living outta this," his father had said to him over a chocolate sundae, "but if you love it enough to send some poor sucker to the hospital needin' stitches, then I don't suppose I'm gonna have a problem with it."  And then he took Mundy to the outdoors recreation store to buy a proper bag for his camera.  It was the first time his father seemed to accept his interest in photography.

It was not until Mundy was ready to leave for college on the other side of the world when he knew in his heart that his parents approved of his passion.  The night before they drove him to the airport, they presented him with their goodbye present: a vintage Hasselblad camera, which had been on the top of Mundy's wishlist for years.  Mundy was not the emotional type, but that night he cried like a small child while made sure he gave them the biggest hug he could.  The next morning, he used the camera to take its first picture: his parents standing in front of their home.  Until then, it was the only picture Mundy took that focused on people rather than wildlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Hasselblad vintage cameras are very nice cameras, according to Google and my dad.


	3. Baseball practice, present day, late August

As far as freshman living went, Jeremy had the luxury life.  Being a student athlete most definitely had its perks: a full-ride scholarship, a whole room all to himself in the Redmond dorm, first pick for classes, and a small group of admirers wherever he went.  And it was not like being good at baseball was all that _hard_.  Schoolwork was not all that hard, either: he had passed high school with flying colors, how much harder could college be?

Jeremy had been eager to leave home.  After all of his brothers had left the house before him, he could not wait to go to college and experience firsthand all the stories he had heard.  He made a long list of everything he needed to do by the end of freshman year and hung it on his wall to stare at every night before going to bed.

Another perk of being a student athlete was early move-in.  He had three days to get settled before baseball practice started, so he took the time to explore most of the campus so he could show off to the rest of the incoming class when they arrived during the following week.

His first day of practice went great.  His second day of practice nearly ended with disaster.

Jeremy was not the sort of guy to cry, but he held nothing back when it came to panicking.  It had only been a sprinting exercise.  It should have been easy.  It should not have landed him on the sidelines with a pain in his ankle sharp enough to render the entire limb useless for supporting his weight, let alone running.  Thoughts raced through his head as he thought of every worst-case scenario.  What was going to happen to his scholarship?  To him?  What was he going to tell his mother?  Was he going to have to live the life of a cripple for the rest of his life?

After calming him down, the coach left to go call an ambulance.  In the meantime, he told Jeremy to sit tight while the volunteer first aid team assessed the situation.  By "volunteer team," he meant the tall nerdy-looking pre-med who was constantly grinning.  Jeremy was only half listening as the older student babbled on in a sharp German accent.

"It's very strange that an athlete such as yourself could get injured this severely by such an simple exercise," he was saying as he examined Jeremy's ankle.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Jeremy said flatly.  He had gone through all the stages of grief in the span of fifteen minutes and was already well into acceptance.  "I'm never gonna play again."

"Nonsense, you'll make a full recovery, I'll make sure of that!" the first aid guy replied cheerfully.  "Tell me, how badly does this hurt?" he asked, bending Jeremy's foot back.

The pain suddenly intensified and Jeremy let out a yell.  "Ow!  A lot, that hurt's a lot!"

"Hm, interesting," the older student muttered.  "Well, I have good news and I have bad news."

"What's the bad news?"  Not like his life could get any worse.

"The bad news is that you seem to have somehow dislocated your tendon, which has basically disabled your entire lower leg from bearing weight."

Jeremy sighed.  "And the good news?"

"The good news is that it's perfectly treatable and you'll be fine within a day!"

Jeremy's spirits lifted.  "Wait, really?  Are you serious right now?  Oh, thank god!"  He sighed with relief, promptly abandoning his plans on becoming a crazy old cat man.

"It's quite a simple problem, really.  If you'd like, I can fix it for you right now."

Jeremy blinked.  "Wait, what?"

"I can fix if for you right now, it's quite a simple process -- "

"Woah woah woah, wait a minute.  Shouldn't I go to a hospital for that?"

"There's no need to waste time and money on an ambulance, the process is simple enough that even a medical student such as myself can do it."

"But you're not even in med school yet, you're only pre-med," Jeremy pointed out.

"Well, I consider myself exceptionally bright.  Trust me, there's no need to waste the time of hospital staff when they have more urgent matters to attend to."

Jeremy considered his options.  If fixing his ankle really was that simple, then the pre-med was right: there was no point in wasting time on going to the hospital.  But if he made things worse…  "Ok, fine.  But if you mess it up bad, I'll come after you."

"Excellent!  On the count of three: one -- "

A sharp pain spiked in his ankle.  "OW!!  You said on three, moron!"

"If you rip off a bandaid right away, it will hurt less," the pre-med replied calmly.  "There, you're all set!"

Jeremy rotated his ankle.  The pain was completely gone.  He gingerly set his leg down on the ground and stood up.  No pain.  "Holy crap, I'm cured!"  He looked wide-eyed at his savior.  "Where'd you learn to do that?"

The older student shrugged.  "A simple application of biology and physics.  Nothing complicated, really."

Jeremy froze.  "Wait.  You mean to say that you just _made that up_?"

"Like I said, it's nothing complicated.  Anyone with a rudimentary understanding of biology and physics could have figured it out."

"Are you crazy?!  You coulda crippled me for life!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic.  You're perfectly fine now, _ne_?  Besides, there was no way I could have made it worse.  I have the physics of the human body down to an exact science -- which is precisely what it is.  Let me ask you this: how did you get to be so good at baseball?"

"I dunno," Jeremy answered.  "I've just...always been good at running and hitting things with bats, y'know?"

"You have a talent for it," the older student agreed.  "And just as you have your talent, I have mine."

Jeremy considered his words.  "Okay, fair enough.  But next time I get injured, I'm going to a hospital for safe measure."

The pre-med raised his hands in the air.  "Fair enough," he agreed.

Jeremy ran off to find his coach to tell him the good news.  But before he left the room, he remembered.  "Hey, wait!" he called out behind him.  "My name's Jeremy, what's yours?"

"Hans," the pre-med answered, grinning widely.

As far as making friends went, Jeremy did not expect his first friend to be a nerdy grinning German guy.  But there he was, spending the break time in between practices with his teammates and his time walking back to Redmond dorm with his new friend Hans.  He was not sure that the two of them had that much in common, but Hans knew enough trivia to keep their conversations interesting and asked Jeremy plenty of questions about himself and baseball, two of Jeremy's favorite things to talk about.

The next week was welcome week, which meant parties.  Those were at the top of Jeremy's freshman year to-do list, right after striking a home run in a tournament.  It was Friday night, and Hans was waiting for Jeremy after practice finished as usual.  "Sorry Hans, I can't talk much tonight," Jeremy explained.  "Everyone's talking about the best parties on the block, and I _have_ to go check 'em out!"

Hans let out a puff of air.  "The best parties on the block?  Jeremy, I can tell you from first hand experience that the big parties are most definitely _not_ the ones you want to go to."

"Really?  How come?" Jeremy asked skeptically.

"Because they're hosted by people with no imaginations.  Also there's a very real risk of getting drugged, but those are few and far between -- " 

"Wait, what?"

" -- anyway, if it's a party you want, you should come to mine!"

Jeremy snorted.  "You?  Hosting a party?  You don't seem the type for partying."

"What do you think I am, a saint?  I'm not worth my German heritage if I can't finish an entire keg of beer in one night."  Hans placed a hand on Jeremy's shoulder and leaned in close.  "Jeremy, if you only trust me once, trust me this time: accept my offer and come to my party.  I promise you, it will be the best decision you will ever make in your life.  You won't regret it."

Jeremy laughed at Hans's stern expression.  "Okay, whatever, pal.  I'll come to your party.  But it _better_ be the best decision I ever make in my life!"

Hans's promise held true.  Going to that first party at the Fortress was indeed the best decision Jeremy made that year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like Medic is really one to make an impression on everyone. I just really like my crazy German healer, ok?
> 
> I should note with some unecessary self-pride that I'm an advanced German student, so everything Medic says that's in German is indeed authentic.
> 
> I am not, however, adept at physical therapy, so everything about Scout's injury is completely made up and probably has no basis in fact whatsoever.


	4. The Fortress, present day, late August: the party

The house itself was not hard to find. Just past the edge of campus by Redmond dorm was a residential area of houses and apartments occupied mostly by college students; the house in question was located at the very end of the street next to the nature reserve. Large planks of wood and rusted metal sheets covered up parts of the roof and sidings, and a broken wire fence surrounded the yard. At some point the house had been painted bright red, which time had faded into a dull burgundy. It looked rustic and worn down, but otherwise liveable.

As Jeremy came closer to the house, he noticed the painted wooden sign nailed to the side of the overhang of the front porch:

_FORTRESS_

He looked at the surrounding houses and saw similar signs in various scripts: _Watchpoint_ , _Garrison_ , _Echelon_ , _Bunker_ , _Tower_ , _Citadel_. Jeremy recalled the largest, fanciest-looking house he had walked past -- _Vanguard_ \-- with its polished wood sidings, shiny windows, and newly-remodeled rooftops. He looked back at the faded red house: it looked far more shabbier than its neighbors. Definitely _not_ like a place that would host the best parties on the street.

Nevertheless, Hans had personally invited him, and at this point Jeremy felt it would be bad manners to not show up. He could always skip over to the other parties if he got bored at this one.

The evening of partying had only just begun as students filtered into the neighborhood from campus, eager to have their first real college experience. A couple of students were standing in the yard outside of the house, some of them already dancing to the music blaring from a large boombox on the porch. Sitting on the boombox was an older student, who was casually sipping from a beer bottle. Jeremy took a deep breath, drew himself to his full height, and walked over to the porch.

The student sitting on the boombox looked up at Jeremy and greeted him with a warm smile and a nod. "Hey there," he said.

Jeremy nodded back as casually as he could. "S'up."

The student shrugged. "Not much, party's only just gettin' started," he replied, speaking in a low, easy drawl. "How 'bout you?"

Jeremy opened his mouth to respond when he heard someone inside the house shout his name. He barely had time to react when the front door flew open and Hans came running out, wrapping Jeremy in a tight one-armed hug and grinning widely. His other hand held an overflowing and brightly decorated beer stein. "I was wondering when you'd show up, _Alter_!" he said loudly. It was clear that Hans had gotten a early start on the evening's festivities. "This is my house!" he continued, gesturing around the porch loosely with his beer stein, its contents sloshing out onto the deck. "I live here, isn't it great!"

"Yeah, it's...uh...it's got character," Jeremy managed.

"I told you, best party _ever!_ " Hans yelled before turning around and tramping back into the house, where Jeremy heard him continue yelling in German.

"I see you've met Hans already," the student on the boombox said, who watched the whole thing with amusement.

"Yeah," Jeremy agreed, rubbing his shoulder where Hans squeeze him just a little too hard. "You live here, too?"

The student nodded. "Yup. I'm the one who fixed this place up. Well, I helped -- had some help from some of the other guys who live here," he added, taking another sip from his bottle. "Anywho, help yourself to a drink first. They're inside by the kitchen."

"Sure, yeah! Thanks!" Jeremy said, and he opened the door to go inside.

The interior of the house was worn out, but looked to be kept in better shape than the exterior. A couch and armchair were pushed against the wall next to an old TV and bookcase to make more space. A few students stood around in the center of the living room, chatting and laughing amongst themselves above the sound of the music playing on the stereo set on the bookcase. Jeremy noticed a tall, gangly student dressed in plaid standing in the far corner of the room, not drinking anything, not talking to anyone. He was leaning against the wall and surveying the room with what could only be described as a deadpan expression. His gaze landed on Jeremy, who felt the student's stony gaze follow him as he walked through the room.

He turned the corner to go into the kitchen when he ran straight into a wall. Stumbling back with a yelp, he look up and realized he did not walk into a wall: he had walked straight into another _person_. A very tall and big person. With broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was definitely an older student, but he looked less like a student and more like he could crush Jeremy with one squeeze of his hand.

"Oh, sorry man, I totally didn't see you there!" Jeremy blurted out.

The student looked down at Jeremy with a stern expression, considering him. "Be more careful next time," he said in a low, thick voice before turning down the hall and disappearing upstairs. Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief at what could easily have been his demise.

The floor of the kitchen was lined with several coolers, each filled with a variety of soft drinks and alcoholic beverages. Back home Jeremy had not been allowed so much a sip of anything alcoholic, and he was eager to try it out. He leaned down to grab the first bottle from the nearest cooler.

"I wouldn't go with that one."

Jeremy jumped at the voice, nearly dropping the bottle on the floor. He whipped around and saw another student with sleek black hair leaning against the doorway. "What?" Jeremy asked blankly, recovering from his surprise.

"I said I wouldn't go with that one," the student said, gesturing at the bottle in Jeremy's hand.

"Why, what's wrong with this one?"

The student sighed. "Have you ever had an alcoholic drink before?"

"Sure I have!" Jeremy lied. The student raised his eyebrow. "...no...?" Jeremy amended, a bit more truthfully.

"As I thought," the student responded. He adjusted the sleeves of the designer sports jacket he was wearing (Jeremy had no idea people even wore those, "designer sports" seemed like an oxymoron) before walking forward to study the contents of the coolers. "That brand you are holding is one of the cheaper ones. You might as well drink raw barley mixed with water." He selected a different bottle from another cooler and held it out to Jeremy. "Here, this one has a more refined flavor and is less bitter. Better to start with this."

Jeremy took the bottle. "Oh. Uh...thanks. I guess."

"Anytime, _amigo_ ," the student replied with a smile. He grabbed two more bottles, opened them swiftly with the bottle opener on the counter, and walked silently out of the kitchen. It took Jeremy a minute to figure out how the bottle opener worked (the other guy made it look so easy).

With the bottle open, Jeremy took a cautious sip. The beer was cold and bitter and he nearly spat out the first mouthful before forcing himself to swallow it. How on earth did people enjoy drinking this stuff? He did not want to look pathetic in front of the other students, so he took another sip and swallowed it quickly before he could taste the flavor. That seemed to do the trick; he would just have to drink it that way.

He walked out of the kitchen back to the living room. There were a few more students inside starting to dance now, too. Jeremy looked around and saw the student who had given him his beer standing in the corner chatting with the same tall guy from earlier, who was now holding a beer bottle in his hand. Well, more like chatting _at_ him: the tall guy did not smile or say anything. But his expression seemed to be slightly less stony than earlier.

Back out on the porch, the older student sitting on the boombox had been joined by three other students. One of them, a black guy, was holding a the biggest jug of wine Jeremy had ever seen and appeared to be drinking straight from the whole thing. The other one had a very muscular physique and was wearing a green camouflage-patterned shirt with the word "ARMY" written in bold letters on the chest. The third student had sickly pale skin and was wearing what looked like a breathing mask over the lower half of his face, the sight of which unnerved Jeremy just a little.

"So the idiot picks up the chunk o' cesium from the bottle -- which I told him _not_ to do, by the way," the guy holding the wine jug was saying. He had a strong Scottish accent that Jeremy found quite comical. "And he's laughing with all his friends sayin' ''Ey, check _this_ out!' and _drops_ it in the beaker o' water!"

The four of them broke out into loud laughter (Jeremy assumed the wheezing noises coming from the one in the breathing mask was laughter). "Wait, I don't get it," Jeremy said. "What's so funny 'bout that?"

"You know what happens when you put an alkali metal in water, right?" the student in the ARMY shirt said to Jeremy, who shook his head.

The student next to him made an expanding motion with his hands accompanied by a sharp hissing noise through his breathing mask. "It...explodes?" Jeremy guessed.

"Tha's right! An' a pretty big boom, too: water everywhere, along what was left o' the beaker," the first student explained, taking a swing from the wine jug.

The student with the breathing mask had pulled up a video on their phone and held it up to Jeremy. He watched as the experimenter dropped various alkali metals into a beaker of water, the metal hissing and popping. Then the experimenter dropped a small clump of cesium and the beaker quite literally exploded. "Holy shit!" Jeremy exclaimed. "That's awesome!"

"Right? I _love_ chemistry!" the Scottish guy shouted, holding his absurdly large drink up in the air.

"Woo, _'Murica!_ " the guy in the ARMY shirt shouted, also holding up his drink.

The older student on the boombox laughed at his drunk friends. He turned to Jeremy. "Say, I don't think I've seen you around before. Freshman, I'm guessing?"

Jeremy drew himself to his full height. "Name's Jeremy Davis: majoring in sports management and star baseball recruit for the Teufort Violets!"

"Dell Conagher, senior in mechanical engineering and computer science," the older student replied. "Man, can't believe I'm already a senior. Time sure flies," he mused, taking a sip of beer. Jeremy also took a sip from his own bottle and swallowed it quickly before the bitter taste could settle in. "Anywho, you're on the baseball team, huh? Must be pretty good to be a freshman recruit." Jeremy felt a swell of pride at being complimented -- and by a senior, no less. "Got a favorite team?"

Jeremy let out a puff of air. "Is that even a question? Boston Red Sox, to the day I die! What about you?"

"Texas Rangers," Dell answered. "I gotta say, it's nice to finally meet someone who knows a thing or two about baseball. The guys I live with, they're nice guys, but they don't give a second thought for the real American sport."

"That's 'cause _football_ is the real American sport!" the guy in the ARMY shirt interrupted loudly. "Who even follows baseball anymore? Football's where it's at!"

"Uh, _we_ do!" Jeremy said indignantly. "Besides, football's no fun. It's just a buncha muscle-y dudes running into each other."

"Hear that, John? I'm not the only one who thinks football is overrated," Dell added.

" _Football_ is the _pride_ of our great nation," ARMY shirt responded with vigor. "A demonstration of the American _spirit_. An enthusiasm _unknown to mankind!_ "

"You wanna talk about spirit, John?" wine jug guy said. "I'll show _you_ enthusiasm unknown to mankind!" Jeremy watched, stunned, as he proceeded to chug the remainder of the entire bottle in one long swing. He slammed the jug on the porch, letting out a loud "WHOO!"

"Oh come on, you basically just chugged a jug of water," John scoffed. "Jacques got the good stuff in the kitchen, let's go settle this like men."

Wine jug guy gave him a stern look. "You sure you wanna have a drinkin' contest with _me_ , Johnny boy?

"You bet your ass, Tavish."

Tavish stood up, picking up the empty jug. "Then I hope you're ready to wake up on the other side of campus with no memory of the past twenty-four hours. Because you _will_ lose."

"Not this time, bro. Now let's go settle this like men."

The two walked into the house, shouting for whoever Jacques was to bring out the good stuff, followed by the sounds of loud cheering.

"Looks like the party's finally getting started," Dell said, standing up from his seat on the boombox. "What say we go join in on the fun?"

"Aw hell yeah!" Jeremy answered, eager to join in on the sounds of dancing and laughter and cheering coming from inside the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite long, as I needed to introduce all the mercs in their collegiate incarnations one by one. Part 2 of the party is on its way.
> 
> For you youngins who aren't in college yet: college parties are quite the experience. Especially with cool people. Make sure you use the buddy system tho.
> 
> Some of the stuff happening in this chapter are based on my own college party experiences. Beer is most definitely an acquired taste, and cheap beer is unbearable for me. Giant jugs of wine are an actual thing. There was a guy at the first party I ever went to who had one. He drank the entire thing.
> 
> It took me a bit of thought to decide how to adapt Pyro into this AU. I think the solution I ended up coming up with is pretty good.
> 
> There is a whole column of elements on the periodic table that indeed explode when in contact with water. [Here's the video that Pyro shows Scout.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uixxJtJPVXk)
> 
> The phrase "enthusiasm unknown to mankind" is a thing associated with my university's football team; seems like something Soldier would appreciate.


	5. The party (cont.)

Around midnight the party at the Fortress started winding down as students made their way over to the bigger party up the block.  Jeremy considered joining them, but he was having plenty of fun with his new friends and was reluctant to leave them behind, so he decided to stay.

He was sitting on the floor leaning on the bookshelf to catch his breath when he was joined by Dell, who handed him a cup of water.  "Drink up, you don't wanna wake up with your first hangover tomorrow," he said.  "Looks like it's just the usual guys left."

"The usual guys?" Jeremy asked.  "You guys a frat or something?"

"Not really.  More like a group of good friends.  Most of these guys live in the house, so it's somethin' like our home base, if you will."

By now only a handful of students were sitting in the living room, and Jeremy was pretty sure he knew who each of them were.  Half of these guys were foreign students.  The big scary-looking guy he bumped into earlier he learned was Misha, a senior from Russia double-majoring in literature and mathematics.  He was seated on the couch next to Hans the pre-med, whom Jeremy learned was a junior from a small town in southern Germany.

Also sitting on the couch sobering up was Tavish, a sophomore from Scotland majoring in chemistry.  Earlier Jeremy noticed a big scar over his left eye, which Tavish explained was the result of an accident in a high school chemistry class: "I was tryin' to make ammonium nitrate," he said sheepishly.  "Obviously I succeeded."

Next to Tavish was Pat, also a sophomore studying material sciences: "He basically makes stuff and sets 'em on fire," Tavish had explained.  The breathing mask was apparently the result of a childhood accident that damaged Pat's vocal chords and part of his windpipe.  "He can still eat an' drink, so it's not tha' bad.  But no booze, though.  Messes with his medications."  Pat did not seem bothered by that fact at all, seeming to enjoy watching everyone get progressively more drunk as the night went on.

Pat's present source of amusement was John, who was trying (and failing) to stack as many empty beer cans on top of each other.  John was another sophomore who used to be in the ROTC, before a stunt gone wrong during a celebration of a football victory led to a week in the hospital and an honorable discharge.  "ROTC was his life, so without that he's sorta floundering," Dell told Jeremy, who felt a pang of sympathy for the guy.

The tall plaid-clad guy from earlier had moved from the corner of the room to sit on a stool next to the couch.  The others called him Mundy: he was a junior studying photography, he was from Australia, and he smiled probably once during the entire party when Tavish was so drunk he tripped over his own shoelaces.  As of now, Mundy was still drinking beer; Jeremy had lost track of how many beers this guy had had and wondered how on earth he still had same deadpan expression on his face after consuming what was, in Jeremy's opinion, a shit-ton of alcohol.

The guy next to him, in contrast, was all smiles and laughter.  Jacques, who was the same guy who picked out his beer for him earlier, was another junior and a theater performance major from France (which explained the expensive jacket to Jeremy).  He was currently amusing the remaining occupants of the room with a very accurate impression of Hans.

"'When ze patient voke up, his _skeleton_ was missing,'" Jacques said, everything from the accent and inflection to the movement of his shoulders and hands an exact mirror of Hans, "'and ze doctor was never heard from again!'"

The room broke out in laughter, Jacques with a proud smirk on his face.  "I must say, Jacques," Hans said between catching his breath, "you tell that story better than me.  But is my accent really that strong?"

"Sometimes, yes," Jacques replied.  "You slip up on your t-h's and w's every now and then."

"Still?  Ah, and here I thought after living here for so long I'd finally be rid of it!"

"I know the feeling, I have been hoping the same for myself, but it seems I'm stuck with this infernal ridiculous accent everywhere I go."

"Hey, that's not always a bad thing," Jeremy chimed in.  "I'm sure it gets you all the ladies."

Jacques gave Jeremy a knowing smile.  "You have no idea."

"Just be glad you weren't ever roommates with him," Mundy spoke from behind Jacques.  "I lost track of how many girls he brought back to 'spend the night.'"

"Indeed," Hans agreed.  "It was to the point where I considered bribing him with test answers for his linguistics class so a weekend would go by when I could get a good night's sleep."

"Oh come now, it was never _that_ bad," Jacques said easily.  "Anyway, I did not think you two would be the jealous type," he added with a sly grin.

"Jealous?  Of the girls or of you?"  Jeremy spat out his water, joining the room in another round of laughter at Hans's response.

"I dunno about Hans.  I just like my peace and quiet," Mundy responded coolly, taking another sip from his beer.

"Well, if anyone in this room's gonna be jealous, it's gonna be _you_ ," Jeremy said to Jacques.

"Really?  And why is that?"

"Well, the accent's nice, but nuthin's a stronger lady magnet than a student athlete!  I already got three dates for next week just from tonight."

Jacques regarded him.  "Hm, I doubt that is the reason.  I'm pretty sure it's also the accent."  He cleared his throat.  "'Hey there, good-lookin'!  Care for a long, romantic walk down to Pizza Hut?'"

Jeremy was between laughing and freaking out.  He had never met anyone from outside Boston who could pull of an accent like that, much less an exact imitation of Jeremy's own voice.  It was uncanny.  "Holy shit, dude!  I could pay you to record the voicemail thing on my phone."

"You wouldn't be the first one to ask," Jacques replied, amused.  "As for the matter on how many dates you can get, I am still confident I can easily outdo you."

"Oh yeah, you wanna bet?" Jeremy asked.  The rest of the room watched eagerly; John was already pulling out his wallet.

Jacques sighed.  "As much as I would like to, I am afraid my days of chasing girls are behind me.  Otherwise I am sure I would end up collecting quite a sum of money from you."

Jeremy shrugged.  "Whatever you say, man.  You're just chicken 'cause you'd lose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tossed in mathematics as a second major for Heavy b/c it sounds intimidating. Like him.
> 
> Someone I know who majored in material sciences described it as "setting shit on fire." Sounded like a good line of work for Pyro.
> 
> Soldier definitely seems like a guy who'd be in ROTC, and then get discharged from ROTC for doing something dumb probably.
> 
> According to the comics, Sniper's family made their own moonshine. I'm pretty sure the dude would be immune to the effects of alcohol.
> 
> As with Sniper, there's not exactly a course of study for Spy that corresponds with espionage. But since impersonating other people is more or less his function, he would have to be a very good actor. Also, Spy most definietly seems like the type of guy who'd be a massive flirt in his youth (much to the chagrin of his roommates, hehehe).


	6. The party, deleted scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was going to be the start of the previous chapter, but it seemed to digress from the direction the narrative was going so I decided to leave it out. It's still a nice scene, tho, and it's got a good bonding moment between Scout and Pyro, so I'll post it here on it's own.

After Jeremy finished his first beer the flavor of alcohol did not seem so bad, so he went to the kitchen to grab another when he saw Hans, John, Tavish, and breathing mask guy (Jeremy still did not know his name) gathered around in a circle.  "Whatcha guys up to?" Jeremy asked.

Hans looked up.  "Jeremy, you're just in time!" he exclaimed.  "We're shotgunning beers!"

"What's that?" Jeremy asked.  Part of him wondered if one if Hans was actually going to pull out a handgun to literally shoot a can of beer.

"Here, Tavish'll demonstrate," John said, handing Tavish a can of beer.

Tavish pulled out his keys from his pocket, stabbed the beer can open in the side.  Before the beer could start foaming he proceeded to chug the entire thing, wasting not a single drop.  He took a deep breath after finishing and let out an excited shout.  " _ That _ , Jeremy, is shotgunnin' a beer.  Care to join us?"

"Yeah!" Jeremy said, eagerly grabbing his own can.  He pulled out his room keys, only to realize that they were simply plastic cards.  "Uh, anyone got any keys to spare?"

The breathing mask guy held up his hand and pulled out his own set of keys and handed them to Jeremy.  "Thanks," Jeremy replied.

"On the count of three," Hans said.  "One, two, three!"

Jeremy took a deep breath and stabbed a key into the aluminum, fumbling to shove the opening against his mouth.  Beer dribbled sloppily down his chin as he drank as fast as he could.  He paused halfway through to catch his breath and saw that everyone else had already finished.  But they were chanting "Go!  Go!  Go!" and before he could feel embarassed by his lack of experience he finished the rest of the beer and threw the empty can onto the puddle on the ground, cheering loudly with the others as they slapped him on the shoulders.

His confidence bolstered, Jeremy followed them to the living room, where Tavish grabbed a bottle of whiskey and several shot glasses, announcing the drinking contest between him and John loudly to the room.  He poured out an amount of whiskey into each glass and then handed one to Jeremy.  "Here, you can join us for the first one," he said.

When Jeremy was in sixth grade, he had chewed an entire pack of mint gum in one mouthful on a dare.  Drinking the whiskey felt like that, the aroma of the alcohol searing through his throat and nose.  He had to force himself to refrain from coughing to avoid choking.  "Holy crap, that's strong!" he said after taking a deep breath.

John patted him firmly on the back.  "Congrats, bro.  You're officially a college student now!"

Someone handed Jeremy a cup of regular soda, which he gratefully accepted.  "Thanks," he said, drinking several gulps to wash down the burn of the whiskey.  He lowered the cup and saw that it was the breathing mask guy.  "Oh, here's your keys back," Jeremy remembered, handing back the student's keys.  "I never got your name, by the way."

The student made a series of quick gestures with his hands.  "Ok I know that's sign language, but I dunno what it means," Jeremy said.

The student pulled out a notepad and pen from the pocket of his hoodie, scribbled something down, and held it up for Jeremy to read.  "'Pat.'  Oh, you're name's Pat.  Nice to meet you," Jeremy blurted out.  He could feel the alcohol starting to fuzz his thoughts.

A new song started playing, and Jeremy instantly recognized the bright riff of the opening through his drunken haze.  "Dude, I love this song!" he shouted, jumping and singing along with the other students dancing in the room.  Pat smiled behind his breathing mask, joining Jeremy in dancing as the steady bass beat of the song began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shotgunning beers is quite fun, but not something I'm personally into b/c I can't chug anything to save my life.
> 
> The music that plays at the end is ["Timber" by Pitbull feat. Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHESy8XsJPs).


	7. Intermission: "Mikhail"

Mikhail.

That was how one of the tutors in the math lab introduced himself to Hans.  The two of them sat at the table alone in the corner of the room, going over Hans's calculus homework.  None of the other people in the math lab paid them any mind: they were the two creepy European students that no one really wanted to work with.

Mikhail was a sophomore from Russia and was studying literature and mathematics.  Hans told him how he used to spend hours in his parents' library reading the great classics, including translations of works by Asimov and Tolstoy.  He said the works of Russian composers were so vivid and full of character compared to their German counterparts.  His favorite was the violin part of Prokofiev's  _ Peter and the Wolf _ .

The older student simply nodded and listened.  He did not say much in response, but Hans was used to being the one who did all the talking.

Let's focus on work now, Mikhail finally said.  Hans agreed and they spent the next hour pouring over integrals and curves.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hans liked Mikhail.  He was patient and helpful and intelligent.  Everyday after class Hans went to the math lab to get help with his homework and to study for his tests.

Sometimes they would talk about things other than school.  Hans told him about the dove he rescued that often came to visit his window even after its wing made a full recovery.  Mikhail told him about his sisters back home, how they wanted to study hard and go to university in America like him.

They talked about their favorite books, and gave recommendations to each other.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

By now, most people who frequented the math lab knew about the two students who always worked together in the corner.  The nicer people thought it was a very good friendship.  The not so nice people thought it was fitting that the students with the heavy European accents would spend all their time together.

Hans paid them no mind.  He liked talking with Mikhail.  Mundy was good company, but he was too quiet and sometimes stopped listening after Hans talked for too long, and Jacques was an insufferable ass whom Hans could hardly stand talking to to begin with.  But Mikhail always listened, and he was far from insufferable and definitely not an ass.

We have so much to talk about, but we're always doing work here, Hans said.  We should have a time just to talk.

Mikhail suggested they could go to a nearby coffee shop after finishing the last set of equations.  He promised that the coffee there was actually good.

Soon it was routine.  After class, Hans would go to the math lab where Mikhail would help him with his assignments.  Then, they would go for coffee and talk about things they liked.

Hans talked about his family, how his father was a cardiologist and his mother a neuroscientist.  He told stories of his grandfather, who was an army surgeon during World War II, which was what inspired Hans to become a surgeon, too.  Mikhail told stories of his own grandfather, who was a member of a resistance group against the communist government in Soviet Russia that fled to East Germany before eventually returning home.

Mikhail liked listening to Hans tell stories.  For someone who often went on tangents and lost track of thoughts, Hans had a vivid imagination and an expressiveness that Mikhail could not help but admire.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I have something to show you, Mikhail said one day over coffee.  He handed Hans a thick loose-leaf manuscript.  It was part of the novel he was working on.  He wanted Hans to read it and hear his thoughts on it.

I'd love to, Hans said.  Thank you, Mikhail.

Misha.

Call me Misha.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Misha invited Hans over to his place to visit.  It was an old house at the end of the street not far from Redmond dorm.  The place was run-down, but habitable.  He met Misha's housemate, Dell, who was nice and made good coffee.  Hans did not go back to his dorm until well after sundown.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

People talk about you two, you know, Jacques told him.  You and that Russian student.

Hans ignored him, like he ignored them all.  He was used to people talking about him behind his back.  For someone like him, it was nothing new.

He knew he was strange, that he was different.  But he did not mind, and Misha did not seem to mind, either.  That was all he cared about.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

People liked to bother Hans.  He was used to it, but they did it less when Misha was with him.  Even the big mean ones were intimidated by him.  Being with Misha made him feel just a little safer.  And Misha did not ignore him.  Misha always listened.

It had been a long time since he had a friend like that.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was raining when Misha answered the door to find a very distressed Hans standing there, with a soaked cardigan as his only protection from the cold.  He did not give many details, but from what Misha could tell there had been a falling out between him and one of his roommates.

Hans asked if he could spend the night here.  Misha said yes.

After a warm drink and some dry clothes borrowed from Dell, Hans was lying in Misha's bed.  Misha did not mind sharing it with him.

That night was one of the only times Misha would ever see Hans cry.  He was always so happy, so optimistic.  It saddened Misha to see him so upset.

Misha?

Yes.

Do you think I'm crazy?

No.  Misha did not hesitate on his answer.

...you really don't think I'm crazy?

Misha took a few moments to find the right words.

You are not crazy, Hans.  You are very intelligent.  You get excited, but because you love a lot of things others do not appreciate.

A long silence.  Misha had almost fallen asleep when Hans spoke again.

Misha?

Hm.

Thank you for appreciating me.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The three of them were sitting outside on a clear patch of grass in the nature reserve.  Hans was playing with Archimedes, Mundy was sitting in a tree with his camera, and Jacques was sitting under the tree with a drawing pad and some charcoal.  He was much less of an ass now, and actually rather good company to have around.  They talked about music a lot.

I've heard a lot of things on campus, Jacques said.  About you and Misha.

Hans gently stroked Archimedes, who cooed in his hands.   I don't care what people say.  Especially on something they don't understand.

Up in the tree, Mundy held up his camera.  That's the spirit, mate.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was sometimes during his sophomore year, after he moved in to live in the house with Misha, that they came home to find the crude words painted onto the side of the house in white paint.  It was not the first time.

Tavish and Misha spent the next hour trying to calm John down, who was angrily yelling about how un-American this was and how he was going to find out who did this and punch their lights out.

Pat turned to Hans, notebook in hand.  I'm sorry people treat you like this.

Hans smiled.  It doesn't bother me.  It's not the first time I've been called names.

Dell brought out the power hose from the shed.  The paint came off easily.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In many ways, Jeremy fulfilled the star athlete stereotype.  But Teufort was a prestigious university, and Jeremy did not get into the school from his athletic ability alone.  So it would only be a matter of time until he noticed.

So...you and Misha.  Are you two, like...y'know.

Hans looked at him.  Are we what?

You know.  A thing.  Like, a couple.

Hans shrugged.  If that's how you want to think about it.

It's just, I've heard people talk.  They don't exactly say the nicest things.  I wanna make sure I have my facts straight, y'know?

Hans gave his response, and like everyone else who spent their time at the Fortress, Jeremy understood.

It doesn't matter what people think.  We enjoy spending time with each other.   That's all I need to know.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Misha.

 

To Hans, Misha was someone special.  Someone who listened to him.  Who liked spending time with him.

Who accepted him for who he was.

And they were happy together.

It was nice to have someone like that in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say ship? 'Cause here's the aircraft carrier of ships.
> 
> This whole chapter came to me in one go, so I just sorta word-vomited it out onto the word document.
> 
> As someone who is ace, I tend to think of every character as ace by default. In my mind, Medic and Heavy are ace af. But that doesn't mean they can't still have a meaningful relationship.
> 
> I took a lot of liberties with characterization in this chapter. But like I said, I just sorta horked it out all at once, so I didn't think too hard about it.


	8. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago, move-in week

The first week of moving in went by faster than Mundy expected.  The relative quiet of the top floor of Redmond dorm gradually went away as regular move-in week began.  Everywhere he went, there were eager students accompanied by their exhausted but proud parents moving big bins of belongings into their rooms.  Asides from making occasional trips to the dining hall and to the nature reserve, Mundy kept himself confined to his room.

Hans, as it turns out, was a tolerable roommate once Mundy got past the whole creepy medical parts.  The pre-med went about his own business, humming and sometimes muttering to himself in German.  Mundy did not mind the background noise, appreciating that Hans was not the type of extrovert who like to constantly bother other people and seemed to be attuned to the fact that Mundy liked his privacy.

By Tuesday, the commotion of move-in week was enough to compel Mundy to leave the room.  He picked up his camera bag and looked over at Hans, who was kneeling at the window refilling the bird feeder.  "I'm going out to the reserve to take some photos," Mundy said.  "You wanna come?"

Hans perked up.  "Certainly!  Just a moment."  He reached out the window and scooped up the white pigeon sitting by the feeder.  Ever since their first meeting, Hans had been meticulously caring for the bird as if it were a person.  "Poor Archimedes has been confined to the window sill all week, he needs some fresh air."

Mundy did not bother pointing out that the bird had been outside and technically was getting fresh air this whole time.  The two left their room and made their way down to the main floor, easily ignoring the strange looks they got at the sight of Hans carrying the pigeon.  Mundy had not been all that worried about being thought of as weird (he had dealt with that all his life, college would be no different), but he never expected to meet someone who was perhaps just as weird as him.  Maybe weirder.  He secretly appreciated it.  Being alone never bothered him, but it was nice to not be so alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two nerds. And I've given them such an interesting friendship. Mutual weirdness is one of the biggest things Team Fortress bonds over.


	9. The Fortress, present day, Halloween

Halloween was something that the other residents of the Fortress took very seriously.  Jeremy had long outgrown dressing up for Halloween, but everyone insisted, so he showed up wearing his favorite Red Sox baseball cap and his baseball bat casually slung over his shoulder

"Babe Ruth, very nice," Dell approved when he answered the door.

"Hell yeah," Jeremy replied.  Dell was dressed in a clean polo and jacket with a baseball cap labeled "NCIS."  "Special Agent Gibbs?"

"You got it.  Great show, I watch the reruns all the time."

"It's not the same without DiNozzo."

"A real shame he had to go," Dell agreed.

Hans and Misha, as it turned out, were the reigning champions of costume design.  This year they were dressed in impressively detailed costumes of Han Solo and Chewbacca (although Misha traded the face make-up for a dark brown _ushanka_.  "They turned out nice, _oder_?  My freshman year we were Frankenstein and his monster, and last year we were Starfleet officers.  We started working on these ones six weeks ago.  I also worked with Dell to make a functioning lazer gun, but I can't seem to find it anywhere..."

Jeremy suspected Misha had confiscated it, knowing a drunk Hans with a lazer that could set things on fire was probably not a good combination.

Pat's costume, Jeremy learned, was the same every year -- but for good reason.  It was downright terrifying. His head was covered in a full-sized gas mask, which amplified the sound of his wheezing into a raspy sound that nearly scared the living shit out of Jeremy when Pat snuck up behind him.  He also wore a rubber suit with heavy boots, all decorated with eerily realistic bloodstains.  He was also carrying a large, blood-stained ax, which Jeremy was relieved to discover was just a very convincing wooden prop.

"Didja use real blood for all that?" he asked jokingly.  Pat did not responded, staring at Jeremy though the empty eyeholes of the mask and breathing in shallow wheezes.

"He get's very into character," Dell explained, seeing Jeremy's unnerved expression.

"Yeah, uh...I see that.  Real cool costume, bro."  Jeremy decided to keep some distance between himself and Pat for the evening.  His costume was so good it genuinely creeped him out.

Tavish, it seemed, was not dressed as anything in particular, wearing only his kilt and carrying around a set of bagpipes.  Jeremy had no idea what he was supposed to be, so he decided to call it "crazy Scottish guy."

"What the hell is John supposed to be?" Jeremy blurted to no one in particular.  John was wearing a camo-textured morphsuit, an American flag tied around his neck, and a pair of boxers on his head with dollar bills taped to them.

"No idea," Mundy responded.  "If I had to take a guess, probably capitalism."

Jeremy's eyes widened at the sight of Mundy, who was dressed in a loose-fitting shirt, pants, and hunting boots, with a fedora on his head and a whip on his belt.  "Holy shit, now _that's_ a costume!" Jeremy exclaimed.  "Is that real?"

"The whip?  Yeah, it is, actually.  Don't really know how to use it, though."

"See, bushman?  I told you people would like your costume," Jacques said, sauntering over to pat Mundy on the back.  Jacques was dressed in a well-fitted and expensive-looking suit, twirling a toy pistol in his hand.  "Cinematic classics are always a good choice."

"What're you s'posed to be?  His bodyguard?" Jeremy asked, eyeing the suit.

Jacques cleared his throat and said in a perfect British accent, "The name is Bond.  James Bond."

Jeremy rolled his eyes.  "Of course.  That explains the billion-dollar suit."

"Don't be stupid, Jeremy, this suit only cost two-hundred Euro," Jacques scoffed.  "I'd never wear something any more expensive than that to a party where drunk hooligans are going to spill drinks all over it."

"Is that so?" Mundy said, then slowly began to tip his beer over Jacques's shoulder.

"No!" Jacques yelled, trying to snatch the bottle from Mundy, who only smirked as he held his beer high in the air over Jacques's head.  He was a good several inches taller, and there was no way Jacques could reach it.  " _Connard_ , don't you dare!"

Mundy merely raised his eyebrows.  "Better watch your language there.  Not exactly proper for someone wearin' a two-hundred Euro suit."  He was still smirking as he lowered the beer to take a drink before saying in a surprisingly striking impression of Harrison Ford, "Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

"Hm.  I must say, this costume quite suits you," Jacques said, snatching the beer from Mundy.

"And you make a pretty good double-'o' seven," Mundy replied.

Jacques sighed wistfully.  "Maybe one day.  It's up there on the list."

"Oooookay, while you two get a room, I'm gonna get a drink," Jeremy said, walking away towards the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. Firstly, I would like to thank everyone for the feedback. It's been a while since I wrote fanfics and this one has been surprisingly well-received. I'm glad you all enjoy it.
> 
> I'm also glad to see some fellow aces enjoy my interpretation. [Tracer voice] The world could always use more asexual romance.
> 
> Now, look me in the eye...and tell me that Medic would not be the biggest sci-fi nerd ever. Do it. I dare you.
> 
> I feel like Engineer would spend a lot of time watching TV and crime dramas. Another thing for him and Scout to bond over.
> 
> Pyro is...well, Pryo.
> 
> I spent some time trying to think of the most Soldier thing Soldier would dress up as for Halloween. I think I did a pretty good job.
> 
> You can pry Indiana Jones Sniper and 007 Spy from my cold, dead hands. Spy's costume is a spy. See what I did there? It's a narrative pun! [boxed laughter]


	10. Group chat log, present day, late September

**janedoe1776:** quick question for engineering ppl: how much calc am i actually gonna end up using in the future realistically speaking

**force_of_nature:** yo my brother's an engineer and you literally use none it's like all computers and shit once you actually start working lol

**janedoe1776:** wait srsly? cause this class absolutely sucks butt

**boomerboozer:** eh calc isn't so bad if you do the homework

**pyr0m4n14c:** yeah it's really not that hard, just go to office hours

**force_of_nature:** lol homework and office hours, ain't nobody got time for that

**leclairenigme:** Jeremy, keep your stupid memes out of this group chat.

**force_of_nature:** screw you i do what i want

**pyr0m4n14c:** also if you need help, Dell and Misha have taken almost every upper level math class under the sun, they'll be happy to help

**ueberlader144:** Which calc class are you in?

**janedoe1776:** calc 2

**ueberlader144:** Oh, that's the one I took! I can definitely help you with that, I still have my old textbook if you want to look over the solutions.

**leclairenigme:** Wouldn't that be cheating?

**texan_baconator:** nope, they change the textbook every year

**texan_baconator:** speaking of textbooks, if anybody's taking any math classes I'd be happy to loan them out for free so you don't have to buy them. other than the homework questions the other stuff is basically the same

**leclairenigme:** That makes no sense. Why waste so much time and effort on requiring updated textbooks if the homework questions are the only things to change?

**ueberlader144:** I know, right?!! It's so stupid!!

**force_of_nature:** holy shit dell ur username is texan baconator

**texan_baconator:** yeah, Misha and I picked out our usernames together

**force_of_nature:** wait wahts mishas

**texan_baconator:** tolstoy_sandvich

**force_of_nature:** omg theyre both about sandwiches thats friggin hilarious

**tolstoy_sandvich:** Yes, I pick the name because they are my two favorite things: Tolstoy and sandwiches.

**force_of_nature:** dude my mom makes a killer bacon n beef slider, i'll ask her for the recipe

**proshot_md:** what the fuck are all of you doing sending messages at 2 fucking am in the morning

**janedoe1776:** i was working on my calc homework and needed help

**proshot_md:** ask for help when people aren't trying to sleep

**boomerboozer:** Mundy, literally everyone is awake right now

**proshot_md:** well not me bc i'm trying to fucking sleep

**janedoe1776:** mundy you're a goddamn fine arts major you don't know the struggle of an actual major

**janedoe1776:** also your technically awake rn

**proshot_md:** fine whatever just stop sending me messages

**pyr0m4n14c:** you know you can turn the notification thing off, right?

**ueberlader144:** Aw, poor Mundy. Are you having trouble sleeping?

**proshot_md:** shut up hans

**force_of_nature:** yeah do you like need a bedtime story or something lol

**ueberlader144:** Or a goodnight kiss? ^3^

**leclairenigme:** Hey now, that's my job. ;)

**force_of_nature:** lol what

**proshot_md:** you are all dead to me

**leclairenigme:** ;)

**proshot_md:** jacques stop

**leclairenigme:** ;)

**proshot_md:** seriously

**leclairenigme:** ;)

**proshot_md:** i swear the next time i see you i'm going to smash that fancy phone of yours to bits

**leclairenigme:** You would never.

**proshot_md:** try me, you soggy baguette

**force_of_nature:** soggy baguette lmao

**force_of_nature:** thats a good one

**ueberlader144:** I came up with that one. Mundy keeps a whole list of insults I made up for Jacques, he uses it quite frequently.

**force_of_nature:** you gotta tell me all of them sometimes so i can use them

**leclairenigme:** You all flatter me so much.

**leclairenigme:** Anyway, I'm actually going to bed now. I have an audition tomorrow.

**force_of_nature:** oh cool dude good luck

**leclairenigme:** Thanks.

**pyr0m4n14c:** break a leg

**ueberlader144:** Technically it's already tomorrow.

**leclairenigme:** I know that, Hans. Do you ever sleep?

**ueberlader144:** SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK.

**janedoe1776:** DAMN RIGHT IT IS

**pyr0m4n14c:** break several legs

**force_of_nature:** hey mundy stopped sending us death threats

**leclairenigme:** He probably threw his phone under his bed. He does that sometimes.

**pyr0m4n14c:** break the legs of your enemies so you'll get the lead role

**force_of_nature:** wtf pat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends and I have a group chat. I figure the mercs would definitely have one for roasting and spamming each other with dank memes.
> 
> I had fun coming up with everyone's usernames. Most of them are pretty straightforward, but others I took a little liberty with. Spy's is a combination of his (headcannoned) last name and the French word for "enigma." Sniper's is a reference to taking pictures and the "md" is supposed stand for "Mundy" -- which confused Medic, who thought it was suppossed to mean "doctor of medicine." Medic's is adapted from the German translation of "Übercharge" and is supposed to translate into "Übercharger"; "144" is my headcanon for Medic's IQ.
> 
> The thing Pyro says about breaking legs is a thing I used say to my friends whenever it was time to audition for the school musical: "Break a leg. Break several legs. Break the legs of your enemies so you'll get the lead role."


	11. Frat party, present day, late October

Jeremy was not great with names.  He could remember faces, but names were simply not his thing.  So to keep track of everyone he met, he assigned them nicknames until he was able to remember what their actual names were.

Jeremy and Pat spent the weekends playing online games together.  Pat's gaming handle was always "pyr0m4n14c," so Jeremy fell into the habit of calling him Pyro (which Pat seemed quite pleased with).

Tavish got the nickname "Cyclops" after he showed up to the Fortress wearing an eyepatch after yet another accident in his chemistry lab.

"You really need to be more careful in there.  And for the love of science, wear your eye protection!" Hans scolded.  Jeremy's first nickname for him was simply "Doc," to which Hans insisted that he did not have either his doctorate or a medical license, so Jeremy settled with "Medic."

He started calling Dell "Egghead" after he fixed Jeremy's bike, laptop, and phone (he did not tell Dell they all broke because he was going too fast down the hill).

The last person he expected to join in on this was Jacques, thanks to whom the nicknames began to stick throughout the entire group.  Jacques had earned the nickname "Dad" after insisting on accompanying Jeremy back to Redmond dorm after a night at a frat party.

"Are you headed back to Redmond?" he heard someone behind him ask.

Jeremy jumped and tripped over the pile of shoes in the hallway, falling to the floor.  He looked up to see Jacques standing casually by the doorway of the house.  "Scared the crap outta me, Jacques!"

"Looks like someone had fun tonight," Jacques observed, smirking.

"Hey, not funny," Jeremy said, getting back up to his feet.  He remembered Jacques's question.  "Yeah, I'm headin' back.  Don't wanna miss practice tomorrow."

"Redmond is quite a walk from here.  I'll go with you just to be safe," Jacques said.

"What are you, my babysitter?" Jeremy asked, following Jacques out the door.  "I _know_ where everything is on campus."

"It's late and you're drunk.  Not a good combination," Jacques replied.  "Besides, you're new to the group and I find things that are said while drunk make for great blackmail material," he added with a smirk.

"What on earth do you need blackmail material for?  You planning on becoming a spy or something?"

"Something like that.  Also you should probably tie your shoelaces before you trip over them and die on the sidewalk."

Jeremy rolled his eyes.  "Yes, Dad," he said sarcastically, bending down to fix his shoelaces.

"Did you just call me 'Dad'?"

"Yeah, I did, because that's what you basically are right now, telling me what to do and how to live my life and everything."

Jacques snorted.  "I'm not sure whether that is blackmail material or not."

Jeremy stood up.  "You know what?  Two can play this game.  I'm gonna start looking for some dirt on _you_ , and I'm gonna find something so embarrassing, it ain't gonna hold up on anything you find on me."

Jacques looked amused.  "You can most certainly try.  But I am quite certain you will never find anything even _remotely_ compromising about me."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_One week later:_

**force_of_nature:** holy shit guys you will NOT believe what i just saw!!!!!!11

 **leclairenigme:** You're right. No one will believe you. You have no evidence.

 **force_of_nature:** mundy sent me pictures

 **leclairenigme:** WHAT

 **leclairenigme:** JEREMY NO

 **leclairenigme:** JEREMY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT SHARE THOSE PHOTOS HERE

 **proshot_md:** aw what's wrong jacques? didn't know you were camera shy ;)

 **leclairenigme:** MUNDY HOW COULD YOU

 **force_of_nature:** told ya 2 could play this game

 **force_of_nature:** you owe me ten packs of soda now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finding ways to incorporate canon into an AU is very fun. Dad Spy confirmed, lol.


	12. Intermission: "Phone Call"

Jacques was not the type to be jealous. Someone like him had very little to be jealous about, he told himself.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

He had just left the room when one of his roommate's' phone began to ring. "Hey Dad," he heard the Australian answer. When Jacques came back half an hour later, he was still on the phone. "Yeah. Yeah, next time I'll Skype, okay? I promise. Okay. Tell Mum I said hi."

The next day the same thing happened when Jacques came back to the room to see his other roommate walking around his corner of the room with his laptop open. Jacques did not know a lot of German, but he knew enough to know that he was showing off his new living space to his parents.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The next week the same thing happened, the only difference being the Australian was using Skype on his laptop instead of his phone.

"I'm not a picky eater, Mum. The food here's fine."

" _Aber es gab keine Kueche, Mutti_ ," Hans explained to his laptop.*

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jacques was not the type to be jealous. Vain, certainly, but not jealous.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The phone calls kept coming.

"Classes are going fine. A bit boring now and then," Mundy said, fiddling with his camera lens.

" _Er heisst_ Misha," Hans said.** He talked for nearly half an hour about the student he met at the math lab.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was not that his parents did not care about him. Far from it. He knew from the times they were able to spend together that they loved him more than anything.

But sometimes he wished they actually had the time to call instead of just emailing him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Hans wants to be a doctor. Jacques wants to be an actor." That was all Jacques ever heard Mundy say about him and Hans to his parents.

" _Sie wollen eigentlich nicht geplagt werden._ "*** Hans said nothing more about his roommates and quickly changed the topic.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jacques was not the type to be jealous. He was above that kind of thing, he told himself.

But at the same time he knew he was not. It was hard to ignore the small swell of jealousy he felt each time he heard the Skype jingle play on someone's laptop.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jacques rarely felt bad when he made fun of other people.

But this time he took it too far.

It was enough to compel him to sit down at his laptop and only to stare at the screen, wondering if he should tell his parents or not.

Alone in the room, word by word, he slowly typed out the truth and hit send before he could take them back.

A few hours later, his parents responded.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_I don't want to be a mean person, but I can't help but be bad at making friends._

_That is where you are wrong, Jacky. You always have a choice on what kind of person you want to be._

Funny, Jacques thought to himself. That's what Mundy said.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"So, are either of your parents coming for family weekend?"

"Are you kidding, mate? Australia's way too far away. Can't be bothered for a few expensive tickets just for some stupid weekend visit."

"My parents will be very busy at the hospital and clinic, so they won't be able to come, either."

"Well, I guess that makes three of us," Jacques said.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When he landed at Roissy, he did not expect so see his parents waiting for him at the terminal. Jacques practically ran into their arms. "I'm so happy to see you! I thought you would be waiting at home."

"Nonsense, we had to see you as soon as possible to make up for all the time we've missed," his mother said.

"How was your semester, Jacky? Are you and your roommates getting along?" his father asked.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Jacques pulled it out and read the messages:

 

_4 new messages in "Support Squad +++"_

**proshot_md:** Skype at 7pm your time

 **ueberlader144:** Isn't that the middle of the night for you?

 **proshot_md:** i'm gonna be jetlagged anyway. besides, you're the one who says sleep is for the weak

 **ueberlader144:** Indeed! You finally understand me.

 

Jacques smiled. "Yes, we're getting along just fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Aber es gab keine Kueche, Mutti." = But there isn't a kitchen, mom.  
> ** "Er heisst Misha." = His name is Misha.  
> *** "Sie wollen eigentlich nicht geplagt werden." = They don't really want to be bothered.
> 
> Did someone say CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT? Spy, I choose you!
> 
> Alternate chapter title: "Support Squad +++: Origins."


	13. Halloween, bonus scene

"Hurry it up in there!" Jeremy yelled through the bathroom door.  "How long does it take you to unzip your pants?"

"Ya can't rush bowel movement, Jeremy!" Tavish shouted.  "Go use the bathroom upstairs!"

Jeremy huffed and walked back through the hall and up the stairs.  All of the doors upstairs were closed.  "Great, which one's the bathroom?" he muttered to himself.  He walked over to the first door on his left and opened it.

The good news: he found the bathroom.  The not-so-good news: it was already occupied.

Jeremy stared, trying to process what he was seeing:

Jacques had his back pressed up against the wall, his bowtie hanging loosely around his neck and his hair mussed.  Mundy was leaning over him, the buttons of his shirt undone and his hat lying forgotten on the floor.  Both of them froze and looked up at the door when it opened.

...he just walked in on Mundy and Jacques making out in the bathroom.

"I thought you locked the door," Jacques said.

"I did," Mundy answered.

"Well, the lock is broken."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that bit out."

"Holy shit, I am _so_ sorry, I had no idea -- I didn't -- " Jeremy stuttered, having regained control of his voice.  "I had _no_ idea you two were a thing, I just sorta assumed you were really good friends or somethin' -- "

"Jeremy," Jacques said, interrupting the tirade of words spewing out of the freshman's mouth.  " _Get out._ "

"Sure thing, Dad," Jeremy said, promptly shutting the door.  His muffled words could still be heard as he sprinted down the stairs.  "Okay, _nobody_ use the bathroom upstairs!  Just...yeah.  It's, uh...it's occupied."

"Won't be the first time the bathroom's been 'occupied,'" Jacques said, smirking inwardly.

"Did he just call you 'Dad'?" Mundy asked.

"Long story," Jacques muttered, leaning up to kiss Mundy.

"I got all night," Mundy said, smiling, before returning the kiss.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

An hour later, Jeremy's phone buzzed.  It was a text from Mundy.

_Jacques told me about the blackmail thing, thought i'd help you out -- md_

Jeremy opened the accompanying photo attachment, and his mouth fell open.

Mundy had taken a picture of the bathroom mirror with his phone behind his back, hidden from Jacques's view -- and it was very clear what the two of them were doing in the reflection.

_holy shit, dude!! i owe you big time!!!_

_no worries, mate_

He immediately opened the group chat: _holy shit guys you will NOT believe what i just saw!!!!!!11_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait to post this chapter, but then I thought, nahhhh. Happy belated Valentine's Day, everyone; enjoy some good ol' ship content.


	14. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago, mid-October

If there was one thing Hans and Mundy agreed with each other on, it was that their third roommate was, at best, insufferable.  Mundy knew the world had its fair share of pricks, but this one was the goddamn king of assholery.

Jacques Leclair certainly acted like it, sauntering around the dorm and campus like he owned the place.  Part of it was the whole "rich kid" attitude, but Mundy knew having money was never the problem; after all, Hans also came from a wealthy family, and no one ever saw Hans acting like a snob.

No, this guy was different.  He liked to control things -- especially people.  What was worse was that he was smart about it, too.  None of the "my parents will hear about this" crap.  No, he knew his way around people.  He could charm and lie however much he liked to get whatever he wanted.  Both Mundy and Hans hated that.

Lucky for them, Jacques was hardly ever in the room during the day.  He spent most of his time hanging out with his clique of theater performance friends, most of whom did not live in Redmond dorm.  Mundy thought the whole group of them shallow and pretentious, feigning friendship while secretly plotting ways to backstab each other over who should get the lead role in the next production.  None of them seemed to want to put effort into actually being objectively good, which both Mundy and Hans found distasteful.

Tonight, unfortunately, was one of the nights when their roommate came home early and proceeded to indulge in pestering them for what seemed like nothing more but his own amusement.

"I see you're back from your usual evening trip," Jacques drawled in his annoying accent.  "Take any good pictures, bushman?"

The French foreign student had decided upon the nickname one day after Mundy came back to the room covered in leaves and small twigs after hiding out in the trees all day.  Mundy ignored the insult and continued on cleaning his camera.

"You can't ignore me forever, Michael."

Mundy shot a glare at Jacques, who smirked: he knew Mundy hated being called by his first name.

"Why don't you go bother people who actually want to listen to your voice?" Hans said, not looking up from his textbook.  "Or do they find you just as intolerable as we do?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Mundy's mouth.  Hans, like himself, was no stranger to dealing with jerks.

Jacques merely snorted at the insult.  "Please, they love me.  Everyone eventually does."

"There's about as much to love about you as there is brains in your head.  That is to say, none at all."

Now it was Mundy's turn to snort.  Hans was a weird one, but he always came up clever insults.  Mundy considered writing down a list of every insult Hans had thrown back at Jacques for when he needed a pick-me-up.

Jacques laughed.  "Says the boy who keeps a set of surgical tools on display and talks to himself all the time.  It's a wonder people can even stand to be around _you_."

Mundy glanced up at Hans, whose face was ever-so-slightly redder than before.  While he was certainly no stranger to dealing with jerks, keeping a poker face was a skill that he had clearly yet to master.  And unlike Mundy, who was fine with keeping everything to himself, Hans had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve.  The honesty and authenticity it provided was refreshing, but that also made him more vulnerable.

"Oh, what's the matter?  Did you run out of clever things to say?" Jacques taunted.

Mundy did not care much for when people picked on him.  He had spent years learning to not let what people said get to him; and if they went too far, he was perfectly capable of fighting back.  What he _did_ have a problem with, though, was when someone tried to pick on someone who clearly could not defend themselves.  That was more than just mean.  It was cowardly.

"Lay off him, mate," Mundy said calmly, carefully cleaning the dust away from the sensor of his camera.  "Go find something better to do."

"You should talk, bushman.  Surely you have better things to do than to defend the pride of some crazy lunatic."

"I'm not crazy," Hans said coldly.

"Oh, then what are you exactly?  Some kind of mad scientist obsessed with cutting things apart, who talks to birds all day like he's lost his mind?"

"I'm.  Not.  Crazy," Hans repeated, this time his voice wavering.

"You're completely incapable of acting like a normal human being.  Just some crazy guy with no friends -- "

The next moment was complete chaos.  Hans lunged at Jacques, screaming and swearing loudly in German.  Mundy dropped his camera and jumped down from his bed to restrain him.  As much as he wanted to see the jerk get his ass handed to him, he was fairly certain Hans was going to hurt himself in the process, so he held him in place until he finally stopped flailing and screaming.  Hans stood there glaring at Jacques, breathing heavily, his face livid, before running out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Jacques opened his mouth to say something, but Mundy did not bother giving him the chance.  He gave him a hard shove, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

"The hell was all that for!" Mundy said harshly.  "He never did anything to you, why can't you just mind your own business like everyone else, huh?  It's like you _enjoy_ making people suffer or something.  It's sick, it's sadistic, it's wrong, and what's worse is that you go out of your way to do it literally everyone you meet, like the whole world is something for you to just walk all over.  What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?"

Jacques stared at him with a stunned expression.  Mundy continued talking.

"No one else is gonna tell you, so I'll say it to you right now: you're a complete jerk.  And lemme tell you something else: people like you, you'll never amount to anything in life.  Because sooner or later, everyone will see you for what you really are: an arse who has no friends and never will, because unlike Hans, you're _actually_ completely incapable of acting like a normal human being."

With that, Mundy grabbed his camera bag and left the room, letting the door slam behind him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was pouring outside, but Mundy did not care.  He followed the muddy trail into the nature reserve until he found his usual park bench to rest on and sat down on the wet seat, the rain already soaked through his clothes.  It was dark out, so he just sat there watching the rain fall on the leaves and ground.

After about an hour, he heard footsteps walking towards him.  He glanced up to see Jacques standing next to the bench, holding an umbrella.

"You're right," he said.  "I'm an ass.  The things I said to you and Hans...they were rude and uncalled for.  I'm sorry."

Mundy stared at the rain for a few moments before responding.  "You don't have to be like that to everyone.  How you treat people, it's always a choice.  Nothing's forcing you to be mean to every person you meet."

"I know.  It's just…"  Jacques took a deep breath.  "The school I went to, back in France -- it was the kind of school where the rich and powerful send their children.  Sometimes we got along, but most of the time...most of the time we had to think for ourselves, what was best for us and our family's reputation.  There was never much of a chance to really make friends with someone."

"Sounds like a shit school."

Jacques snorted.  "Yes, it was.  I'm glad to be away from it.  But old habits die hard, I suppose."  He paused.  "I guess I'm still not used to being somewhere where everyone _isn't_ trying so hard to compete with one another."

Mundy considered his words.  "Look, me and Hans, we each have our own thing going on.  Chances are, you're no different.  You've probably got your weird acting stuff that you do in your own time, I dunno.  But look, if Hans can find that Russian bloke to spend all his time with, then you can find someone, too.  You just have to, y'know.  Not be an arse."

"And what about you?" Jacques asked.

"What?"

"What about you?  Don't you have someone you can spend all _your_ time with?"

Mundy stared at Jacques for a moment before going back to watching the rain.  "I like being by myself."

"I see."

A long moment passed as the two of them watched the rain fall.

"Shall we head back now?  You are completely soaked."

Mundy watched two rain droplets trail from a leaf and splash onto the ground before he responded.  "Yeah, sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, no one ever said they all started out as friends.
> 
> I'm going to go on a tangent here, because this whole process of writing this AU is exteremely interesting and quite honestly I like tooting my own horn:
> 
> Characterization and character analysis are fascinating topics for me. My high school English teachers spent a lot of time teaching us how to read between the lines. Along with my studies in psychology, I've spent a lot of time figuring out how one might fill in the gaps of the canon narrative. At first it seems difficult with the canon of TF2 being rather sparse compared to other more story-driven franchises. But I find that it's quite the opposite, because what the canon does provide is rich in little details of character that, with a little creative license, create a complete picture of the character.
> 
> For an AU, that process is pushed further by displacing these characters in time and space -- in this case, I am essentially speculating what kind of characters the mercs would be as young, modern-day college students. Obviously in this narrative they do not become mercenaries, which is the biggest difference between this AU and the canon. So, I have to think: what happens in this narrative that's different from the canon? What happens this time that makes it so that they don't become this zany bunch of mercenaries?
> 
> From that comes a related question: how did each of the mercs become the characters we know and love them as in the canon? Their past experiences are more or less up for debate, but the important thing is that we know the end result: the mercs we know and love are all very capable and (more importantly) confident individuals. These are men who are good at what they do and know exactly what they are doing -- and they know it. The canon portrayals of these characters show very little self-doubt in their own abilities.
> 
> So, these are the questions I'm trying to answer with this AU. Who did these mercs used to be, what experiences did they go through to make them who they are as adults, and what happened differently that made them not become mercenaries?
> 
> Questions to think about over the next few chapters. :)


	15. Illustration: Support Squad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I consider myself a visual artist over a literary one, so of course I need to generate artwork for this. I got a little carried away and made student IDs, too.

**Medic (Hans)**

 

**Sniper (Mundy)**

 

**Spy (Jacques)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can pry curly-haired young Sniper (aka., plaid-clad nerd) from my cold, dead hands. Also Medic is my precious deutscher Nerd and Spy is a _pretty boi_ (but also a nerd). (They're all nerds.)


	16. 2 years ago, mid-October (cont.)

One of the many complaints that Jacques had about the United States was the drinking age -- a problem easily remedied by a fake ID, which he had gone out of his way to acquire soon after the semester began so he could go to the bars with the other theater students.

After the whole ordeal with his roommates, Jacques needed something to distract himself from this entire week.  He decided a night out at the bars would be just the thing.

Several drinks later he was walking back to Redmond dorm, having parted ways with the students who lived on the other side of campus.  He looked past the row of houses at the dark trees of the nature reserves.  If he cut through the reserve, he could save ten minutes walking around the entire neighborhood.  It was late and cold and the sooner he got back to his room, the better.

That was the second mistake he made that night.

Jacques stumbled through the darkness, trying not to trip on the uneven ground and walk into trees.  It had rained earlier that week and his shoes and pants were likely going to be covered in mud.  He nearly fell over a half-buried log and began to regret taking this shortcut.  It did not help that Jacques probably had just one too many drinks earlier that night.

A few paces forward and Jacques could see the lights of the main entrance of Redmond dorm in the distance.  He was almost there.

"Hey kid, what're you doing out so late?"

Jacques looked over to see a man approach him, dressed in a way that told him he was definitely _not_ a university student.  He ignored him and forced himself to remain calm and keep walking.  He was almost there.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."  Jacques gasped as the man grabbed his arm and yanked him back.  "Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to ignore people?"

"I don't know, did your parents ever teach you to take a bath?"  The retort was out of Jacques's mouth before he could stop himself.

"Ok, so you wanna be smart with me," the man sneered.  Jacques tried to pull his arm free, but the man only tightened his grip and jerked Jacques toward him.  He opened his mouth to yell out, but stopped when he saw the switchblade pointed at his face.  In a rush of panic he mustered all the strength he could and yanked his arm free, feeling a sharp pain in his arm where the blade cut through his thin jacket.  He tried to run towards the lights of the dorm, but the man easily caught up to him and tackled him to the ground.

The man was kneeling on top of him, pinning him down with his knees and gripping the blood-stained knife.  "Don't even think about trying anything stupid."

Jacques could feel his heart pounding in his chest and struggled to throw them off, but there was nothing he could do.  He wished he had not had so much to drink: he would have given anything to have a clear head in that moment.  That was the first mistake he made that night.

This is it, he thought to himself in panic.  This was how he was going to die.

"OI, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

Before it occurred to Jacques that he recognized the voice, the weight pinning him down was thrown off.  His head was spinning as he looked up and recognized his roommate standing over him, his boots and jeans stained with mud.  "Leave him alone," Mundy said in a low voice, and with a ferocity that surprised Jacques.

"What the fuck, man!" the man yelled before swinging the knife at Mundy.  Before Jacques could react, Mundy swiftly blocked the swing and responded with a solid punch to the man's jaw.

"I said, leave.  Him.  Alone," Mundy repeated.

"You're gonna pay for that," the man spat, glaring at Mundy.  For a moment Jacques was afraid he would attack again, but apparently he realized that Mundy was going to be a more formidable opponent than he was willing to put up with.  He backed away slowly before turning and running out of the reserve.

Jacques closed his eyes and breathed several deep breaths.  He flinched when he felt the hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Mundy kneeling over him.  "Can you stand?" he asked.

"I...I think so," Jacques answered.  He leaned his weight on Mundy's arm as he stood, wincing as he gripped his injured arm.

"You're bleeding," Mundy observed.

"In case it escaped your notice, he had a knife," Jacques said dryly.

"Yeah, I figured that bit out," Mundy replied with an equal amount of sarcasm.  "We'll have Hans take a look at that when we get back to the room."

Jacques's head was still spinning as they made their way to Redmond dorm.  "Shouldn't we call the police?"

"Sure, yeah, let's call the cops.  And while we're at it, you can explain to them what on earth you were doing stumblin' around the reserve drunk outta your wits with a fake ID."

Jacques decided it was probably best not to say anything in response to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this, my friends, is why you use the buddy system when you go out drinking.
> 
> I love the begrudging beginnings of a lifelong friendship.


	17. The Fortress, present day, mid-October: Bread

When Jeremy opened the front door to the Fortress, he was greeted by a shrill, high-pitched scream followed by the sound of something crashing in the bathroom.  Misha was sitting calmly on the living room couch reading a thick novel and Jacques was casually leaning on the stairway banister with an amused expression on his face.

"What's goin' on in there?" Jeremy asked, staring at the bathroom door.

"Hold still, quit movin' around so much!" he heard Dell shout from behind it as the screaming continued.

"Oh, you know," Jacques answered.  "The usual."

"GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!!!" Hans's voice shrieked, followed by more sounds of things falling on the floor.

Jeremy looked up to see Mundy walking calmly down the stairs as if hearing his housemates' screams was a normal occurrence.  His usual deadpan expression was almost comical as he entered the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

A minute later, the crashing and screaming stopped.  The door opened and Hans walked out holding a wet bundle of towels, his glasses skewed and his clothes soaking wet, looking like he just survived a hurricane.  He grinned when he saw Jeremy.  "Jeremy!  You're just in time to see this!" he said cheerfully, as if he had not been screaming like a pansy for his life earlier.

"See what?"

"This!"

Jeremy looked closer at the bundle of towels and jerked back with a shriek when his nose was nearly bitten off by a snapping jaw.  "What the hell is that?!"

"A dog, of course!"

Jeremy stared at the clump of wet brown fur glaring up at him.  It was a small dog, but from the growling it was definitely not friendly.

"We found him hiding out behind the chemistry building," Dell explained, wiping his hands off on a dirty towel.  "Took us a while to lure him out from that trash can and even longer to bring him back and wash him off."

Mundy emerged from the bathroom, a bloodstained towel wrapped around his arm.  "Oh my god, are you okay?" Jeremy asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine.  Little guy bit me is all," Mundy answered calmly.  He pulled the towel away to inspect his injury, and Jeremy saw what looked like bite mark still oozing blood.  "He's a feisty one."

Jacques stared at the wound with a mix of shock and disgust.  "Shouldn't you go to a hospital for that?"

Mundy shrugged.  "Nah, I'll be fine."

"Dude, you're gonna get rabies or somethin' if you don't get it checked," Jeremy said.

"Don't worry 'bout it, mate.  Pretty sure that thing doesn't have rabies.  And if it does, I'm vaccinated.  Perks of living near the Outback."

Jacques and Jeremy both gave Mundy a doubtful look.

By now John, Pat, and Tavish had joined them in the now cramped hallway, having been drawn out from the kitchen by all the commotion.  John saw what Hans was holding and promptly dropped the plate of bacon he was eating.  "Oh my god.  Is that a dog?" he gasped.

"It sure is," Dell answered.  John was standing next to Hans in the blink of an eye, staring wide-eyed at the creature.  It growled and nipped at John's hand when he tried to pet it.

"I wouldn't try petting him just yet," Jacques warned.  "He's still pretty mad at being carried around in an old trash bin and getting a bath."

"Don't be stupid, Jacques.  He's a cute little fella," John said, smiling widely at the angry pile of wet fur.  He picked up a piece of bacon from the floor and held it in front of the dog, who quickly ate it and began licking John's fingers.  "Aw, I think he likes me."

"Here, want to hold him?" Hans asked, handing the bundle over to John before checking on Mundy.  John was joined by Pat, who giggled as they took turns feeding what was left of John's bacon to the dog.

A few hours later the dog was completely dried.  It had stopped growling at everyone, too, and followed John around the house for the rest of the day.  "Ain't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?" John said, sitting on the living room floor and petting the dog affectionately.

Jeremy had to admit it looked kind of cute when no longer resembled a mop.  "Are you gonna keep it?"

"Of course I'm gonna keep it!  I've already given him a name."

"What'd ya name it?"

"Bread."

Jeremy stared at John.  "You named the dog 'Bread'?"

"Well, doesn't he kinda look like a loaf of bread to you?"

Jeremy looked at the dog, who was panting happily in John's lap.  It indeed had a remarkable resemblance to a loaf of bread with with its fluffy beige fur and white belly.  "I guess he kinda does," he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you know. Just the usual shenanigans going down at the Fortress.
> 
> I thought for a while about how to adapt the mutated bread from Expiration Date to the AU. I think what I came up with was pretty good.


	18. Group chat log, present day, early September

**ueberlader144:** What in heaven's name is that sound???

 **texan_baconator:** i have no idea

 **texan_baconator:** @tolstoy_sandvich?

 **tolstoy_sandvich:** Do not ask me, I am at the library where it is quiet.

 **ueberlader144:** You went to the library without me? :'(

 **leclairenigme:** Here it is, everyone: a tragic tale of heartbreak.

 **texan_baconator:** ok but seriously, i've been wondering what on earth that sound was for the past hour

 **proshot_md:** john is practicing his trombone in the shed

 **texan_baconator:** what

 **texan_baconator:** THAT'S what a trombone sounds like????

 **ueberlader144:** No.

 **ueberlader144:** Trombones do not sound like that.

 **texan_baconator:** sounds more like a dying cow

 **proshot_md:** you guys seriously dont know what a trombone sounds like?

 **proshot_md:** and i thought i was the one who lived under a rock

 **ueberlader144:** Why is John trying to play a trombone in the shed?

 **proshot_md:** hes practicing for marching band

 **texan_baconator:** marching band, really?

 **leclairenigme:** Now that I think about it, he did mention something about that earlier this week.

 **ueberlader144:** It sounds terrible. He needs to stop.

 **proshot_md:** lol no one ever said he was good

 **janedoe1776:** yeah you dont need to be good at something to be part of something GREAT

 **janedoe1776:** also im very disappointed in all of you that you cant recgonize the sound of a trombone when you hear one

 **janedoe1776:** you should all think something bad about yourselves

 **texan_baconator:** well i'm glad to hear you found something to do, john

 **texan_baconator:** practice all you need

 **ueberlader144:** No, don't practice all you need.  At least not here.

 **janedoe1776:** well suck it hans because i need to have this entire show memorized by saturday

 **ueberlader144:** No, please don't.

 **leclairenigme:** John, please do.  >:)

 **ueberlader144:** No, do NOT.

 **ueberlader144:** I can't listen to this.

 **ueberlader144:** @tolstoy_sandvich I'm coming to join you in the library.

 **proshot_md:** @janedoe1776 ok your rhythm is decent but your pitch sounds way off

 **janedoe1776:** idk what this music is theres no way i can move my slide that fast

 **proshot_md:** would you like some help?

 **janedoe1776:** bro that would be great

 **proshot_md:** ok just wait a moment i'll head down

 **ueberlader144:** DON'T ENCOURAGE HIM, MUNDY.

 **janedoe1776:** hans i will personally come to your house every morning and wake you up with the national anthem until you accept marching band as the pinnacle of human art

 **leclairenigme:** I really doubt that marching band can be considered "art"...

 **texan_baconator:** hey now, marching band is a great american tradition, show some respect

 **janedoe1776:** damn right, dell

 **janedoe1776:** screw you europeans

 **texan_baconator:** you got that right, lol

 **leclairenigme:** ...this is why people hate Americans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok lemme tell y'all about fuckin' MARCHING BAND. Band is my life. I live and breathe band. I was gonna quit it after high school, but right before I graduated I was like "Shit, I can't fucking do it. I can't quit marching band."
> 
> Collegiate marching band is something else (especially at a Big 10 school), but it's one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life. Despite all the complaints I have about it, I have zero regrets.
> 
> I really feel like after ROTC, Soldier would dedicate himself to marching band. It's the best mix of discipline and shenanigans for him -- especially being a trombone player. He'd fit right in.


	19. 2 years ago, mid-October (cont., 2)

When they reached the top floor of Redmond dorm, they could hear the faint sounds of music coming down the hall.  Mundy pulled out his keycard and opened the door to their room.  Jacques caught a brief glimpse of Hans standing in the middle of room, a violin tucked under his chin and headphones on his head.

The moment after the door opened he stopped playing.  His expression darkened when he saw Jacques follow Mundy into the room, and Jacques felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach.  He had apologized to Hans, but while Mundy was content to go back to ignoring him like he did everyone else, Hans was much more colder in attitude towards him.  Jacques was certain that Hans had yet to fully accept his apology, if he ever would -- and part of Jacques knew he deserved it.

However, Hans's expression shifted when he saw the blood on Jacques's arm.  A frown crossed his face and he gave Mundy an questioning glance.  "I found him trying to take a shortcut back from the bars.  Didn't work out for him," Mundy explained.

Hans said nothing in response.  He took off his headphones and set them down on his bed with his violin.  Then reached under his desk and pulled out a massive first aid kit.  "Sit down," he said curtly.

Jacques knelt down on the floor next to his desk.  He did not want to get blood on his bedsheets.

"Take off your jacket," Hans instructed, sitting down on the floor and opening the kit.  Jacques did just that, wincing as he peeled away the torn, bloodstained sleeve.  Hans pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and examined the cut on his forearm.

Mundy watched as he leaned against the corner post of his bed.  "How's it look?" he asked.

"The cut isn't that deep, stitches won't be necessary," Hans reported.  Jacques sighed with relief.  He was not sure if he was willing to trust Hans with sticking a needle into his skin just yet.

Hans reached into the kit and grabbed a clean towel and a bottle of distilled water.  Wetting the towel, he began to clean the blood and dirt away.  Jacques hissed when the water made contact with the open wound, twitching his arm back in pain.

"Don't be such a baby, it's just water," Hans chided.

Behind him, Mundy snorted with amusement.  "Make you think twice next time you decide to go walking through a dark forest while drunk, eh?"

Jacques let out an exasperated sigh.  "Fine, I learned my lesson, I had it coming, et cetera, et ceter -- OW!"

Mundy snickered as Jacques jerked back his arm, holding it close to his chest and staring in shock at Hans, who had what he could only describe as a sadistic smirk on his face.  "What did you just do?" he yelled, then jumped back when he saw the syringe his hand.  "What the hell were you going to do me with that?!"

"Nothing, I swear!" Hans said, an innocent smile replacing the smirk.  "Look, there's not even anything in it.  Although, you actually _can_ kill someone just by injecting air into their bloodstream.  And I've watch quite a lot of crime shows, so I know of several ways to hide a body…"

By now Mundy was full on laughing at the expression of absurd disbelief and horror on Jacques's face.  Hans, too, finally broke, joining Mundy in howling with laughing.

"I'm sorry, I had to!  The...the chance was just too good!" he stuttered out between fits of laughter.  "Wait, come back!" he yelled out to Jacques, who had backed up all the way to the base of his bed.  "I promise I won't hurt you!"

"You are all insane," Jacques said, muttering swear words in French as he slowly returned to the spot next to where Hans was still wheezing.

"Oh my god, your face, you bloody face…!" was all Mundy could manage to say as he caught his breath.  "You actually thought he was gonna kill you!"

" _Va te faire foutre_ ," was all Jacques said in response as Hans finished wrapping the gauze around his arm.

"There," Hans said, pulling off the gloves and giving Jacques a pat on the cheek.  "Now, we're even."

"Thanks," Jacques said.  "For not killing me, I suppose."

"You're welcome, Jacques."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring break happened, and then Hunted/Haunted happened, and finally I can add more chapters to this fic.
> 
> And thus begins Jacques's redemption arc.


	20. Redmond dorm, 2 years ago, early January

Jacques set down the large box he was carrying down on the stairs to catch his breath.  He and his roommates had all agreed to buy Christmas gifts to be shared between them for the room, and while Jacques had no problem with the price tag of his gift, he was now regretting choosing something so big.

And of course he lived on the top floor.  And of course the elevators were broken.

"Need some help with that?"

He turned around to see Hans walking up the stairs behind him.  Han's eyes widened when he saw the size of the box.  " _Mein Gott_ , what did you get for us?"  He paused.  "Is it just an empty box for Mundy to live in?"

Jacques laughed.  He normally found Hans's sense of humor unsettling and sometimes downright morbid, but every now and then the German student would say something worthy of a stand-up comedy performance.  "Yes, that's exactly what I bought: a three-hundred dollar box for our resident bushman."

"Well then, let's not keep him waiting!" Hans said with a grin.  He squeezed past Jacques to the other side of the stairway and lifted the opposite end of the box.  "Oh, this isn't that heavy," he said.

Jacques stared as he lifted his end of the box.  What was it with him and having roommates who were deceptively stronger than they seemed?  "Are you kidding?  This thing weighs a ton!"

"Don't be stupid, Jacques, this thing barely weighs ten kilo," was the exasperated response from the other side of the box.  "If you are serious about your career in cinema you should consider working out more.  You'll need the body strength -- not to mention you'll drastically improve your muscle tone!"

"Please, I have great muscle tone, thank you very much," Jacques huffed.

"Mm...no, not really.  Although I guess a lot of women these days do tend to go for the skinny types, so not all hope is lost for you I suppose."

Jacques had no idea what to say in response to that.  Sometimes the words that came out of Hans's mouth were just downright absurd (if they even _were_ words: he remembered the time Hans walked into the room late at night and spat out a mouthful of toothpicks and wads of damp notebook paper onto his desk).

"So, what exactly did you get us?" Hans asked after they set the box down in the middle of the room.

Jacques opened the box and pulled out a sleek black hi fi unit and two large matching speakers.  "I have decided that you and Mundy are in desperate need of improving your tastes in music -- you to bring it up to speed with the twenty-first century and Mundy to actually acquire one."

"And what's wrong with the classics?" Hans said.  "There's a reason everyone knows who Beethoven is!"

"And the fact that you do not know who Beyonce is is a travesty," Jacques replied.  "You don't even have to like her music, just appreciate her for her contributions to music."

He set up the speakers and hi fi unit against the wall near the middle of the room, made sure the Bluetooth connection to his phone was active, and set the playlist he had put together for Hans to shuffle.  "I thought I would start you off with something a bit more instrumental and then work our way towards the more mainstream content."

The first song was indeed very orchestral, featuring several stringed instruments and a piano accompaniment.  A few seconds after the introduction the tone of the music shifted and Hans perked up.  "I recognized this!" he said.  "I've been hearing it everywhere."

"Indeed.  It's all the rage in the musical theater department," Jacques replied.

"Hm...I this I like this one better."

The next song opened with a bright, lyrical violin solo.  "How do you feel about electric violin?" Jacques asked.

"The electric _what_?"

"Electric violin."

Hans blinked.  "I...did not even know such a thing existed."  He frowned as he listened.  The tambre was completely different from what he was used to, but at the same time it did not sound as bad as he thought it would.

Jacques looked over at the shelf next to Hans's desk and saw that space had been cleared out for a large, polished chrome espresso machine.  "Did you get that?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, I almost forgot!" Hans said, jumping up from his seat at his desk to the espresso machine.  "The coffee in the dining halls is too disgusting to drink and the BLU Coffee cafe is too far away from here, so I got us all a _real_ coffee maker."

Jacques walked up to the machine and let out a breath at the prospect of finally being able to drink real coffee in his own room.  "Oh, Hans.  What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Would you like a cup?  I was just about to make a pot."

" _Yes._ "

An hour later Mundy walked into the room to the sounds of his roommates engaged in a very heated discussion.  At first he thought Hans and Jacques were fighting again, but then he realized they were arguing over the others' coffee preferences.

"What in the name of science are you doing adding all those things to your coffee?"

"What are you talking about, I always add nutmeg to my coffee, it makes it taste nicer."

"You are butchering my gift to you, Jacques!  Cream and sugar are fine, but what you've done is made an abomination.  You can barely call it coffee in that state, all you'd need to do is add some flour and eggs and you could bake a cake with it!"

"At least I let myself enjoy life, Hans, unlike you.  What sort of sad, lonely life must you lead that you only add cream and sugar?"

"You added enough cream to make it a diluted solution of pasteurized cow secretions!"

"And you added enough sugar to kill a small animal!"

Mundy ignored the bickering Europeans and headed straight for the espresso machine and poured himself a cup in his new mug that he got for Christmas.  Honestly, he had no idea what the big deal was.  Coffee was coffee, it all tasted the same to him.

He was already halfway through drinking his cup when he noticed the other two had stopped arguing and were staring at him.  "What?" he asked.

"Did you add anything to that?" Hans asked.

"No, why would I?"

"You're...just drinking straight black coffee," Jacques said.

"Yeah, so I am.  It's free country, so they say."  Mundy downed the rest of the cup and set the empty mug on his desk.  "Well, I gotta head back out.  Thanks for the coffee, mate."

Hans and Jacques stared after Mundy as he left the room.  "He didn't even wait for it to cool," Jacques said in disbelief.

"Australians," was Hans's response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for your support of this fic -- I noticed it recently reached 100 kudos! This thing honestly started as just something to do for fun on the side and I really had no idea how it was going to be received, me being relatively new to the TF2 fandom and all. But I'm really glad I decided to write this, since it seems like a lot of you enjoy it.
> 
> So many of the chapters I'm writing are Support Squad centric, I might as well create a spin-off fic for it...
> 
> Hans and Jacques are very picky about their coffee. I had this image in my head of the two of them arguing over how they prefer their coffee, only for Mundy to walk in and just straight up drink it black and the two of them staring at him in bewilderment.
> 
> The song Jacques plays for Hans is [a mashup rendition of "Let It Go" by The Piano Guys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Dakd7EIgBE) (check out their other stuff, they make some great music). The electric violin song is [this cover of "Radioactive" by Lindsey Stirling and Pentatonix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aE2GCa-_nyU).
> 
> I've put a lot of thought (maybe too much thought) into their tastes in music. Hans up to this point has listened to nothing but classical music (much like myself in high school). He likes the formulaic structures of baroque music (like that of J. S. Bach and Vivaldi), but I like to think his passionate side also favors the late classical/early romantic composers (Beethoven, Paganini, Tchaikovsky). After becoming friends with Jacques, he starts favoring some of the French composers (Saint-Seans, Debussy, Ravel) and starts listening to more modern music, mostly covers by artists like Lindsey Stirling and The Piano Guys as well as orchestral scores (Hans Zimmer, Michael Giacchino, Patrick Doyle, Alan Silvestri).
> 
> Mundy listens to a variety of weird indie stuff but also a few mainstream artists: U2, Radiohead, Empire of the Sun (they're Australian), Arctic Monkeys, a little bit of Muse, and some older stuff that his parents like. He also has some appreciation for chill jazz from his time learning tenor sax.
> 
> Jacques is very modern in his tastes and tends towards popular American music, mostly favoring Maroon 5, Neon Trees, The Killers, Owl City, Coldplay (they're actually British but their stuff is still popular in the US), and more recently DNCE. As a theater performance major, he'd probably also enjoy Pentatonix and a variety of Broadway tunes; for French music he'd probably like Stromae, a Belgian artist whose made some really sick music videos (see ["Papaoutai"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oiKj0Z_Xnjc) and ["Tous Les Mêmes"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAMWdvo71ls)).
> 
> I'm a huge nerd for music, so feel free to ask for recommendations on specific songs for any of the characters. If enough people ask, I may put together some Youtube/Spotify playlists for them.


	21. Illustration: Jeremy, Support Squad (redraw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all. It's finals week and I have so many things that are not fanfics that I need to write, so I haven't been able to generate any new chapters. Hopefully once summer break begins I'll be able to sit down and properly get some stuff written down.
> 
> In the meantime, I drew Scout and redrew the Support Squad, this time with accompanying little bios. [[Tumblr post link]](http://hornboss.tumblr.com/post/159807526951/i-decided-to-redraw-my-designs-for-the-college-au)

**Scout (Jeremy)**

**name:** Jeremy Jack Davis  
**year:** freshman  
**major:** Sports Management  
**hometown:** Boston, MA

 **residence:** Redmond dorm  
**group chat ID:** force_of_nature  
**favorite athletic team:** Boston Red Sox (baseball)  
**extracurricular:** intercollegiate baseball (NCAA Division I)

* * *

  **Medic (Hans)**

**name:** Hans Joseph Ludwig  
**year:** junior  
**major:** Biology (Pre-Med)  
**hometown:** Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Bavaria, Germany

 **residence:** The Fortress (off-campus housing)  
**group chat ID:** ueberlader144  
**favorite athletic team:** FC Ingolstadt 04 (soccer)  
**extracurricular:**  undergraduate research (university hospital),  
                                                                                         campus symphony orchestra

* * *

  **Sniper (Mundy)**

**name:** Michael James Mundy  
**year:** junior  
**major:** Photography  
**hometown:** Alice Springs, Australia

 **residence:** The Fortress (off-campus housing)  
**group chat ID:** proshot_md  
**favorite athletic team:** Wellington Phoenix (soccer)  
**extracurricular:** wildlife photography

* * *

  **Spy (Jacques)**

**name:** Jacques Clément Leclair  
**year:** junior  
**major:** Theater Performance  
**hometown:** Paris, France

 **residence:** Blutarch dorm  
**group chat ID:** leclairenigme  
**favorite athletic team:** Paris Saint-Germain (soccer)  
**extracurricular:**  campus musical theater, fencing club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point I realized that, this story being in the 21st century, Medic would probably have some cool trendy-looking glasses.
> 
> All of the non-Americans bond over soccer to some degree.
> 
> Also the TF2 cast seems to have a surplus of dark-haired blue-eyed men, so I tried to give their eye and hair color some variation.


End file.
